As Shadows Fade (18 page)

“But no, you needn't go to such an extreme. Tuck it inside your hat or coat,” said Vioget from across the room. “It would be a shame to cut such lovely curls. Why, when they're unbound, they reach nearly to your—”

“Waist. How crude to mention it,” Max cut him off. Their eyes locked and antipathy flared.

“I'll do it myself,” Victoria snapped, yanking the braid taut with one hand, and reaching to her waist for the knife. The blade glinted suddenly in the early dawn. “Bloody damn fools.”

“No, wait,” Max said, grasping her wrist. He hesitated…but in the end, it had to be done. “Let me. You'll cut yourself.”

A bloody weak excuse, but she relaxed her arm and allowed him to remove the knife from her fingers. His hand settled on the top of her warm head. Before he could think twice, reconsider, he sliced the long, thick plait right at the base of her neck.

The braid fell away, sagging in his hand, and he watched dark curls spring up softly around the tender skin of her neck and shoulders. She turned, tipping and tilting her head as though loosened from some great burden and smiled at him. “It feels so light.”

“A bit safer, too,” he said, unable to keep from staring at Victoria with the mass of soft, rumpled tresses that fell into her eyes and face and made her look as though she'd just risen from bed.

“And very, very lovely,” interjected Vioget. “Not boyish at all.”

“Then what was the point?” laughed Victoria.

None too gently, Max smoothed what was left of her hair back into a low tail. “This,” he said, fastening around it the leather cord he would have used for his own hair. “Wear a hat, and you'll look like nothing more than a young man.”

“A very pretty one at that,” agreed Vioget. Who always seemed to need the last word.

Now, after more than a week of rapid travel, Prague loomed ahead. The orange-red roofs of close-set buildings burned bright in the lowering August sun behind him, and the wicked-looking black spire of the unfinished St. Vitus's Cathedral jutted above the sea of terra-cotta roofs. Beyond, across the sparkling Vltava, Max could barely see the dual towers of Týn Church.

“I presume you know where to find Katerina,” he said, turning to Vioget.

“Most assuredly.”

Max nodded and gathered up the reins to his horse. “I will leave that to both of you, then. You'll find me at Týn Church on the evening of the day after tomorrow.” He'd already begun his fast this morning, and would be on his knees in the cathedral before the sun completely set. That would suffice as his first day of fasting, according to Wayren.

Vioget looked as though he meant to say something, but for once held his tongue. Max glanced at Victoria but couldn't allow his attention to linger. “Be safe,” was all he said, and urged his mount forward.

Whatever she replied was lost in the scattering of rock and rubble beneath his horse's hooves as they leapt forward.

Max didn't look back.

Victoria watched him go and resisted the urge to kick her own horse into a gallop after him. She'd see Max again in three days, and before then, she and Sebastian had to find the vampire Katerina. She couldn't afford to be distracted or worried. There would be time for that later, she told herself. Nevertheless, she watched him grow smaller on the road ahead of them with a pervading sense of loss.

She and Sebastian rode in silence for a time, and the city's features became clearer even as the lowering sun cast longer shadows in front of them. Through the trees she caught glimpses of the single bridge crossing the Vlatava River, and Victoria watched closely for a sign of Max's tall figure. But it was growing dark, and the riders all looked the same to her.

Victoria shook herself mentally and tightened her resolve. There were important matters to be dealt with, ones that could have far-reaching impact if she didn't succeed. She looked at Sebastian and asked, “You're quite certain this Katerina has the Ring of Jubai?”

He looked at her, a grin tipping the sides of his mouth. “It would have been a waste of time to bring us here if I weren't, would it not?” He shrugged. “According to my grandfather, once Katerina obtained that ring from Germintrude, she never took it off. It was her way of spiting Lilith, I think.”

He pointed to the snaking river and the single span over it. “The Stone Bridge,” he told her. “Katerina was turned because of that bridge.”

“You did claim to know the story,” Victoria said, glad for the conversation to keep her mind off Max. Why did he have to ride ahead of them? They were still going to the same place.

“I do know the story, perhaps better than any other mortal,” he told her. “Perhaps if I tell you, it will distract you a bit—hmm, Victoria?”

His sidewise look made her heart pang quietly, for he wasn't completely successful in hiding his own hurt.

“It's a beautiful bridge, is it not?” he asked with a gallant sweep of his hand. “When the sun rises, it casts a lovely burnished glow over it.”

She could see people and carriages moving across the bridge, which stood in the river on ten arches that made it look like a graceful centipede. At the leg of every arch, statues rose on either side of the bridge. Other than that, the span was unfettered by wall or decoration. Simple, clean, elegant.

They drew nearer, and Victoria looked up at a single ornate spire that rose atop a hill above them. “Prague Castle is there,” Sebastian told her. “And that is St. Vitus's Cathedral, which they have been building off and on since the thirteen hundreds. It's still not completed.”

“And what of Katerina?”

“You're not interested in the history of Praha, as the natives call it?” Sebastian asked. “I'm merely attempting to fill your mind with something other than worry.”

“I'm not worried. Not at this moment.”

Sebastian looked at her. She realized how dark it was getting, for she couldn't see the details of his face, or the gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps you should be, Victoria.”

“What do you mean?” Fear seized her. What did he know? Something about Max going off alone?

And then she stopped herself. She very nearly stopped her horse, too, there in the middle of the road. What a fool. What a fool!

She was doing exactly what Max had warned about, had worried about. She was allowing her fear for him, her thoughts of him, to overtake everything else.

There were demons to fight. A horrible, unfamiliar malevolence that she'd never faced before…that had dared to abduct Wayren.

And Max…Max was more than capable of taking care of himself. She shook her head and felt the hair loosen from its tie at her neck. A chin-length strand fell into her face, and she brushed it back impatiently.

“Now there's the Victoria I know,” said Sebastian airily, as though he'd watched her pull herself together.

She saw that they were just at the approach of the bridge. Great statues guarded the arched entrance tower.

“As I'd begun to tell you,” he continued as their mounts clopped onto cobblestones, “when the bridge was built, the masons added egg yolk to the mortar to make it stronger. People from all over the country sent eggs here to Praha in order to assist. And,” he added with a smile as their horses took the first steps onto the bridge, “one particularly helpful town thought to hard-boil the eggs before sending them in order to keep them from breaking during the journey.”

Victoria saw the glitter of lights ahead and along the bridge, but the orange roofs and cream-colored buildings had turned gray in the low light. She looked over at Sebastian. “They hard-boiled them?”

“Ah, so you were listening,” he said. “I thought perhaps I'd lost you. Yes, indeed. According to the tale I heard, the eggs weren't so helpful for the mortar, but they were a fine snack for the builders.”

She gave a short laugh and at the same moment felt a familiar chill over the back of her neck. A vampire, perhaps two.

A surge of energy swept through her as she reached for the stake she kept inside her boot. When she rose upright in her saddle, she caught Sebastian's eye and saw that he'd armed himself similarly.

With a quick sweep of her gaze, she identified the undead as a handsome young man near one of the statues. He rode on a large horse and smiled down at a woman who lugged a heavy basket on wide leather straps over her shoulder. She was well past Victoria's age and, in the lantern light, looked haggard and tired. She'd be no match for a superhuman undead, but, given the option, the vampire would probably prefer fresh, younger blood.

Such as Victoria's.

With a telling glance at Sebastian, she pulled the tie from her hair and yanked the edge of her cloak down over to hide her breech-clad legs. Then, urging her mount forward, she brushed past the vampire and his intended victim.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said, looking at the vampire, pulling his attention from the older woman. She saw and felt the spark of interest when she stopped just beyond him and turned as if in need of help. Her English speech identified her as a stranger, and Sebastian had stayed far enough back that it wasn't evident that they were traveling together.

The vampire, fickle as she expected him to be, directed his horse away from the older woman and toward this more attractive prey. Victoria watched beyond him as Sebastian moved toward the woman and alighted from his saddle. He'd make certain she got safely away.

“May I help you?” he asked, in accented English.

“Yes, oh, thank you for speaking English,” Victoria stammered. “I'm a bit lost, you see, and I was hoping you might help me to find an inn for the night.”

From her perspective, it seemed any self-respecting vampire with a dram of common sense might question how such a ripe plum of a victim would fall into his lap…but this particular undead appeared to have no suspicions about the serendipity of the situation. In fact, his eyes lit with unholy glee, seemingly unaware that his other prey had begun to walk along.

“But of course,” he replied. “Let us cross the bridge and get to the Town Square. There are many rooms for let there.”

And many dark corners into which a victim could be dragged and sucked bone-dry.

“Oh, thank you,” Victoria replied, wishing that she could simply slam the stake into him right here. But it would be rather difficult to explain how a man suddenly disappeared from his saddle and turned into a puff of musty ash. Too many people wandered about.

But the moment they reached a dark corner—and, ironically, they would both be intent on reaching such a locale—Victoria's stake would find its home if he wasn't able to tell them where Katerina was. And even if he was.

“You're lost, you say? Where are you going?” he asked, keeping his horse next to hers along one side of the bridge as though to block her from any other passersby

Victoria turned away coyly. “For tonight, I wish only to find a place to sleep. In the morning…well, in the morning, I shall meet my friend.” Not her best lie, but the vampire seemed patently uninterested in anything but guiding her into a dark corner.

In fact, he didn't flicker an eyelash over her vague, rather silly story. This undead was definitely one of the less capable vampires she'd ever met. It just went to show what Aunt Eustacia had always told her. There were smart vampires and foolish ones, silly ones and frightening ones…but regardless of their personalities, every one of them was evil and bent on one thing: drinking human blood.

By now they'd crossed the bridge, walking their horses under the gateway toward Old Town.

Victoria found the area on the eastern bank of the Vlatava much closer and darker than the west side, from which she and Sebastian had approached the city. Connected buildings, creamy white ones with the familiar orange roofs, butted up along narrow, twisting cobble streets. Row after row of houses connected ten or twelve in a row of varying heights and widths. Many had lights burning in the windows, but they were obscured by curtains or shutters, and the illumination gave little to the shadowy streets.

When Victoria and the undead moved far enough from the bridge, she eased her horse into a particularly shadowy corner and stopped. “Oh dear,” she said, pretending to fuss with the bag attached to the back of her saddle. The vampire moved closer, and when she looked up, she found red eyes burning next to her face.

“I don't think you're going to need a place to sleep tonight,” he said, reaching for her arm. “But if you insist, I can certainly provide accommodations.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Victoria said calmly. “I seek Katerina. Where is she?”

“Who are you?” he asked. But he didn't move away.

“I'm looking for the Ring of Jubai. Does she have it?”

“Who are you?” Now he pulled back, his eyes fading a bit in surprise.

Impatient with his repetitive response, she grabbed the front of his coat. And then Sebastian appeared just behind the vampire, blocking his horse into the corner with her.

The vampire, who was, in the end, too foolish to look more than a bit alarmed—but not truly frightened—turned at this new presence.

“Ah, I thought that was you, Antonín,” Sebastian said in a liquid-smooth voice. “I suggest you remove your hands from her if you wish to see another sunrise. Or…pardon me. I meant to say…
sunset
.”

Antonín released Victoria, his eyes definitely no longer glowing. “Vioget?”

“Alas, but you don't seem pleased to see me at all.”

“No, I should say not. And Katerina…I don't believe she would welcome you either, considering the last time you were here.” Then he swiveled back to Victoria, and she could see calculation in his face. “And who is this that you protect her so vehemently?”

“This is
Summa
Gardella. I don't think she is in need of my protection, Antonín,” Sebastian's voice held a wave of humor.